


How a Kiss Should Taste

by timetoboldlygo



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, hadrian is in this a lot as a oblivious friend, secret samol!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetoboldlygo/pseuds/timetoboldlygo
Summary: Kissing hadn’t been in the rules. Well, they hadn’t talked about any rules, but Adaire had assumed they were both following the unsaid rules, which were not to kiss your fake girlfriend. Adaire really would have assumed that would be pretty clear. Apparently not.or: so adaire and hella have to fake-date





	How a Kiss Should Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chairman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chairman/gifts).



> happy secret samol! god i had such a good time with this prompt, i hope you all have a fuckin excellent time reading it. title from "daisy" by zedd - the full line is 'let me show you how a kiss should taste' and thats just the gayest shit ever i promise to you

Adaire had to assume Hella was drunk or she wouldn’t have started a conversation with “You’re good at subterfuge, right?”

Adaire looked over her. Hella was drinking her second beer of the night, and tilting her head back to look at Adaire, loose hair falling over the back of the couch. “Pretty good, yeah.” It wasn’t, like, the best thing she was good at, but it was right below drinking a ton of beers and never getting a hangover and right above picking any locks she could get her hands on. Subterfuge wasn’t really Hella’s style, though, so she asked, “Why?”

Hella kept her eyes on her, startlingly serious. “Well,” she said, and Adaire could tell just from the tone of Hella’s voice, that she should sit down. So she did, on one of the stools in kitchen, tucking her foot up on the second rung. Once Adaire was comfortable, Hella continued, “So Hadrian keeps trying to set me up on dates.”

Adaire blinked. It hadn’t been what she was expecting. At minimum, she was expecting to steal something from a store. At maximum, she was planning where to dump the body. Things she was good at. Allegedly. “That’s – sweet. I think.”

Hella nodded. “Very.” She took a sip of her beer, then declared, “He’s shit at it, though.”

That did not surprise Adaire at all. Hadrian seemed like the absolute worst person in the world to set _anyone_ up on blind dates, let alone Hella. But Hella hadn’t dated anyone in a while and Hadrian always liked to have a project. Adaire didn’t really understand their friendship, or whatever, so she wasn’t going to pretend she had a clue. “And you want me to do what?”

Hella grinned at her. “Pretend to be my girlfriend for a little while.”

What Adaire thought was, _No way in hell_. What came out of her mouth was “What the fuck?”

Hella didn’t take it personally. Instead, she ate a potato chip, apparently unconcerned with the magnitude of what she’d just asked Adaire to do. “What, you can’t do it?”

“I can _do_ it,” Adaire snapped on reflex, because no one was allowed to say she couldn’t do anything. She could tell Hella was baiting her. But if Hella wasn’t aware of the magnitude of what she’d just asked, Adaire wanted to keep it that way. “Just maybe I don’t want to.”

Hella put her beer down the coffee table and stood up. She used a coaster so she wouldn’t get rings on the wood. It felt like an absurd thing to notice at this moment, but Adaire always noticed when Hella did little thoughtful things like that and she wasn’t sure she could stop herself anymore.

“It’ll be super easy and you’ll have a chance to make a fool out of Hadrian,” Hella coaxed, rounding the counter to stop in front of Adaire’s stool. Adaire leaned back just slightly. “Come on, don’t you want to make fun of Hadrian?”

She did. She did so badly.

Hella took another step forward. “I’m not asking you to be my one and only forever.” She put her hand on Adaire’s knee, leaned on it just a little bit. She was smirking, wearing that look that always made Adaire feel like she was being seen right through, like all her secrets were free. Hella had a habit of looking at her like that. Adaire had a habit of liking it. “Just a couple of months, long enough to get Hadrian off my back.”

“Fine,” Adaire blurted, unable to focus on anything other than Hella so close - the pressure on her knee, the warmth of her breath. “But you’re buying me dinner on every date.”

Hella leaned back, satisfied. Adaire felt the loss of her hand deeply. “Of course.” She crossed her arms. “I always pay for my girls’ dinner.”

Adaire covered her hands with her face. Of fucking course she did. Hella really did know how to court a girl, from what Adaire remembered of her previous, long-ago romances. Adaire’ had actually always rather thought Hella would be a good girlfriend, but she’d pushed that thought to the back of her mind and locked it up tight, where all the other thoughts about Dating Hella were locked.

The good thing was that Hadrian was oblivious and therefore it was _incredibly_ easy to dupe him. They didn’t need a fancy story – in fact, when Adaire suggested planning one, Hella had laughed. All they had to do was get dinner with him and Throndir at the greasy little diner they liked, the one that allowed dogs inside so Kodiak could steal food, and all Hella had to do was drape her arm casually over Adaire’s shoulder and try a bite of her mac and cheese.

She actually leaned in for a bite off Adaire’s spoon.

“Wait,” Hadrian said, seeing this happen almost forty-five minutes into the conversation. Not that they’d been too obvious about it, but still, forty-five minutes was a long time. Adaire was pretty sure Throndir had noticed the second she and Hella walked in, Hella’s hand hovering just above the small of her back. He was quiet about it, the corner of his mouth turning up. He caught Adaire’s eye, his own crinkling at the corners, and she shrugged back, like _what can you do?_ Hadrian, however, actually froze with his fork halfway to his mouth, his waffle in danger of falling into his lap. “Are you guys – are you _dating_?”

“Yeah,” Hella said easily. Adaire willed herself not to flush.

She almost felt bad at how excited Hadrian looked. He was grinning so big, like he was really _really_ happy for them. “That’s great!” He nudged Throndir, who was also smiling at them. Possibly he was smiling because Kodiak was trying to steal the bacon right off his plate, though.

Throndir fed the bacon to Kodiak. “Yeah, man, it’s about time!”

Adaire _barely_ stopped herself from saying _what the hell does that mean_ because she was good at subterfuge, dammit, and saying that would be a truly idiotic move. Instead, she leaned slightly into Hella’s side more and she told herself she was only pretending to enjoy it, even when Hella pulled her even closer.

\---------------

The thing about Hella was this – actually, the thing about _Adaire_ was this: she didn’t date. Partly it was because she never had and she hated doing things out of her depth, and partly it was because she didn’t like people to know her. Some of it was because she told herself she was happy without letting people in. Some of it was the ability to move at a moment’s notice, which was kind of a moot point now, since she owned an antique store and she wasn’t keen on evading those skipped taxes for the rest of her life, so she’d have to sell to move anyways.

Hella always looked comically out of her place in her shop, since her head nearly hit the ceiling. Adaire was short and Fero, who worked here when he felt like it, was even shorter but Hella did come over all the time and help Adaire move heavy pieces of furniture – actually, she moved heavy pieces of furniture to where Adaire told her – and then Adaire would treat her to a drink at their favorite bar, down the street. Sometimes Hella would come back to Adaire’s apartment and sleep on the couch, not because she was drunk but because she was lazy and – Adaire hoped – she was comfortable being around Adaire. They were a good team.

“Hadrian totally bought it!” Hella hoisted up a bar stool and following Adaire out to the back of the shop, so she could stain it in the backyard. “All I heard from him yesterday was how happy he was for us.”

“That’s sweet,” Adaire said as Hella put the stool right side up on the cardboard, perfectly in line with the other two. She was absolutely not admiring Hella’s arms or thinking about how Hella could absolutely lift _her_. “Actually sweet, I mean.”

Hella ran a hand over her sweaty face and Adaire felt a pang of longing in her heart, which she wasn’t going to allow.

The thing about Hella was that she was probably the first person Adaire would feel comfortable assigning the label _best friend_ to, if she were prone to calling people labels like _best friend_ , which she wasn’t. The point is, she mostly spends her time with Hella, and she didn’t even know how she got to that point. One day she was a girl in a bar with absolutely zero friends and a brand-new antique shop in a brand-new city, and she was planning on keeping everything but the “new” part of that description. She didn’t know how Hella even happened.

But Hella was her best friend and she helped Adaire with her shop and Adaire went to all her roller derby matches and Adaire hadn’t been thinking about it, because she was good at not thinking about it, but this was why she knew this whole fake-dating thing was going to be a bad idea. Adaire wasn’t equipped for connection. She was already faking it as it was.

Hella straightened up. “Drinks tonight?”

“It’s a date,” Adaire absently pushed her hair off the back of her neck. She was half focused on her personal problems and half checking out a nick on one of the legs of the stool, so it took a second for her brain to catch up to her stupid, traitorous mouth just a second later.

Hella stuck her tongue at her then grinned. “Yeah, it is.”

It wasn’t.

\---------------

A couple of days after, they got drinks with Throndir, Fero, Ephrim. Hadrian had bowed out on account of Benjamin having a fever. Hella bought Adaire’s drinks, of course, and she did it without Adaire even reminding her of their deal. Hella just slid Adaire’s favorite cider to her, which Adaire hadn’t reminded her about either, and slung her arm around Adaire’s waist, her own beer in her other hand. Adaire was already becoming accustomed to being this close to Hella, the way Hella’s hand fit comfortably at the dip of her waist.

“Where’s mine?” Ephrim asked jokingly, gesturing with his empty hands. He hadn’t seemed surprised by the dating thing. Normally he was pretty unflappable, but Fero _also_ hadn’t been that surprised, beyond giving them a thumbs up, which lent credibility to the Throndir just told everyone theory.

Hella grinned at Ephrim over the rim of her glass. “Sorry,” she drawled. “I actually _like_ Adaire.” It made Fero and Ephrim splutter while Throndir laughed his deep belly laugh, all of them disrupting everyone else in the bar. Adaire took a swig of her cider to hide her blush, but Fero noticed and laughed and slapped her back anyways.

 A week after that, Hella tagged along to the museum with Adaire and Ephrim, who were going to see an exhibit on fashion. Hella didn’t usually go to museums, and Hadrian wasn’t even going, so Adaire couldn’t see what Hella was thinking, but she picked Hella up and they met Ephrim on the museum steps, looking effortlessly cool in a long red jacket against the fall air.

Adaire and Ephrim had a system, which was they wandered from room to room at about the same pace but didn’t really talk to each other. They both understood art and had their own opinions on it and didn’t really care to discuss until they left, sometimes grabbing dinner together. This time, Adaire led Hella around, fingers intertwined, and pointed things out, quietly. Hella didn’t really get fashion, or art, but she let Adaire tell her everything anyways. There was something really refreshing about how she’d just look at a piece of clothing and say “Well, I think it’s kind of ugly with all those weird feathers” and then look at Adaire expectantly, waiting to be told more.

Adaire caught Ephrim smiling at them and she flipped him off, which only made him laugh.

Sometimes while in the museum Adaire _would_ see couples walking along together. Sometimes neither of the pair understood art and they’d share a pair of the guided audio tour headphones. Sometimes they both seemed like a pair of art students, and they’d debate or discuss or share fun facts, comfortable in their knowledge.

Adaire didn’t see couples where one knew everything and the other didn’t very often. She’d always assumed it was because it probably sucked to be the one who didn’t know. She certainly hated not knowing. But occasionally, there were a few couples, holding hands, and one would explain things so thoughtfully to the other, who looked just so _thrilled_ to learn about something their partner liked, that Adaire could barely stand to watch it, it was just that intimate.

She didn’t know if she liked it, now that she was part of that couple, to see that look on Hella’s face. She’d spent her whole life being the loner, and she didn’t know to change, be flexible. She didn’t know how to stomach Hella looking at her like that, like she had all the answers and Hella would just die to hear them drip from her mouth.

Then again, this was all fake.

Adaire swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Come on.” She pushed Hella towards the posters wing. “Let’s check out the posters.”

She went to one of Hella’s roller-derby matches, sitting in the front row even though that’s honestly a dangerous place to sit. Fero was in the front row too, which made a lot of sense when you thought about who Fero was as a person. Hadrian had very smartly taken the seat _behind_ Fero.

They were doing warm-ups and Hella skated over to them, leaning over the safety bar. “Hey.” She had her helmet on and her hair into little braids down her back. Adaire took a sip of her cider to hide how dry her mouth was. She couldn’t stop herself, however, from reaching out and touching Hella’s knee, the dark skin crisscrossed by fishnets. The fishnets looked _really_ really good on her.

Hella grinned down at her. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do.” She sounded starstruck even to her own ears.

Hella leaned down and kissed her. It was quick and hot, Hella still caught in a laugh, her hand fisted in Adaire’s shirt, dragging her up out of her seat. A large part of the audience was whooping and cheering at them. When Hella pulled away, relinquishing her grip on Adaire’s arm, she was licking her lips and smirking. “See you after the game.”

Adaire was glad it was so dark in the rink, because she was absolutely bright red. That hadn’t been in the rules. Well, they hadn’t talked about any rules, but Adaire had assumed they were both following the unsaid rules, which were not to kiss your fake girlfriend. Adaire really would have assumed that would be pretty clear.

She sat back in her seat.

Apparently not.

Dating Hella – _fake-dating Hella_ – was easy, because, well. Adaire really did spend all her time with Hella. She got used to the way Hella called everything they did dates whether or not Hadrian could even hear them, even if they were just watching stupid tv shows and how Hella would sling her arm around Adaire, comfortably, like she had her back.

It was easy to allow this, like Adaire had never allowed this before. Which she knew strictly wasn’t true, but Adaire was a born liar and so she lied to herself about this too. Shoved it down where all the other Hella thoughts lived and forgot about.

Kissing Hella, though, was a whole the story, and as the lights dimmed and the announcer started, mic giving feedback, Adaire knew she wouldn’t be able to shove that kiss away next to all the other Hella thoughts. Not where her face was this flushed and she could taste Hella’s chap stick, not when Hella winked at her right before the whistle blew.

Yeah, she was in trouble.

She didn’t have it in her, though, to stop Hella from kissing her.

She tried, just once, later that night after the game. “Hadrian isn’t even around.” Like her fingers weren’t fisted in the collar of Hella’s shirt. Hella’s team had won and she’d taken out an opposing blocker with an absolutely brutal smash to the face, breaking her nose, and they’d treated her to burgers afterwards.

Then Adaire and Hella ditched everyone and went for ice cream, at one of the trucks near the park that was still out even though it was getting chilly. Their hands tangled together, sticky from ice cream, and when Hella kissed her again, it was sticky-sweet too.

“It would look pretty silly if we were dating and we weren’t familiar with kissing.” Hella was breathless. Her breath was clouding in the air, but her hand on Adaire’s jaw was hot. She still had her hair in those two little braids and her eyeliner was smearing under her eyes and of course, she was probably the most beautiful, most real thing Adaire had ever seen.

They’re both lying, and Adaire knew it. _Dangerous_ , she thought, even as her hand snaked up and tugged on one of those braids. “Great point.”

So dangerous.

\---------------

She was at the hardware store, picking up varnish and screws and a million other tiny things she carried around in a list in her head when she saw Hadrian coming down the aisle. She’d yet to actually encounter Hadrian in the wild without Hella by her side. She picked up a can of the varnish she needed and studied it, like maybe he wouldn’t notice her if she didn’t look at him, which not only was stupid (she knew so much better) but also didn’t work.

“Adaire!”

“Oh, hi, Hadrian.” Adaire pushed her sunglasses up on her head, trying not to squint. She hated the fluorescents in this store. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, must be fate.” Hadrian’s basket contained several lightbulbs, one outlet cover, and two screwdrivers, both of them the same size Phillips head. Adaire didn’t know why he needed two. Must not be much for do-it-yourselfing, then. “I was just telling Rosana that you and Hella should come over for dinner.”

“Oh,” Adaire said. “That’s really nice of you guys.”

“She and I were talking about how nice it was that you guys are together,” Hadrian continued. “You feel really strong, you know? Steady.”

“Well, you know what they say about being friends first.”

“I’m really happy for you guys.” He sounded so sincere. “And your hair looks wonderful.”

Adaire blinked. _That_ she hadn’t expected. “My hair?” Adaire asked, reaching up to touch the intricate braids that Hella had spent all last night – at least, a movie and a half’s worth of time – weaving through her hair. They were pinned up at the nape of Adaire’s neck and every time she moved her head, they felt strangely heavy and regal. She wasn’t much a girl for doing her hair.

Hadrian pointed at her hair. “The courting braids? It’s an Ordennan custom, kind of an old one. Hella told me about it ages ago.”

“Oh.” Hella hadn’t said anything about it last night. She’d just been sitting behind Adaire and started playing with her hair. It had taken almost twenty minutes for Adaire to notice what she was even doing. She’d been really concentrated on it, which had been pretty cute. She’d left after the movie was over, because she had work early the next morning, but the braids were so lovely Adaire hadn’t wanted to take them out. She’d slept in them instead, but they were so tight and precise that they were still there.

At the time, Adaire had just thought it was an impressive skill Hella had, one she must have learned from years of keeping her hair out of her face for softball and field hockey and roller derby. Adaire hadn’t _known_ there was anything more to it. She wracked her brain but she _knew_ Hella hadn’t mentioned anything about these being courting braids. Why wouldn’t Hella have said that?

She didn’t know what that meant. They’d only been fake-dating a few months – almost seven months, actually, it had been much more than a few months – but Hella would have said if it were important, right? If they needed anything for this con? Hella would have said.

Adaire hated not knowing what to make of things.

Hadrian was still talking, but she interrupted him. “Hadrian, I really need to finish shopping before I forget my list.”

“Oh, right!” Hadrian said. “Does Friday for dinner work? At seven?”

Adaire blinked at him. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She didn’t like feeling so out-of-sorts, but she was hard-pressed to think of another time Hadrian had personally invited her to do anything. Usually invitations in the group chat were a come one, come all – hey, I’m going to the diner if anyone wants to join, hey, I have a game tomorrow (Hella only) drinks tonight? hey does anyone want to go the exhibit at the museum (Adaire, Lem, and Ephrim, mostly), hey can anyone babysit tonight (Hadrian exclusively, though Throndir sometimes asks about pet-sitting Kodiak). But she and Hadrian didn’t, like, hang out much. By virtue of Hella, mostly, and everyone else, sure, they were friends. Most of the time she went out, he was there, so by sheer face time alone, he was up there. He was fine, steady, and predictable.

But Adaire wasn’t actually sure she’d been in his house.

“Okay,” Hadrian agreed, waving. “I’ll see you and Hella Friday!”

“Right.” Adaire set off down the aisle. There was something surprisingly nice about being part of a set like this, to just assume if you got one, you’d get the other. The feeling nestled in her chest, where it itched at her uncomfortably purely because it was so comfortable and warm.

Feelings like that made fools of them all.

\---------------

She dropped her things off at the store and spent an hour in the back, carefully reattaching the leg to a rocking chair with a lot of personality. She didn’t do _that_ good a job at it, considering her brain was just full of thoughts about Hella. Thoughts like _why did she put braids in my hair_ and _why did Hadrian have to ask us to dinner, I hate being part of a set_ and _I hate being part of a set, don’t I_ and _what even is this? What are we doing?_

Then she went over to Hella’s, because they had a date tonight and Hella was cooking, and she’d called it a date, but it _wasn’t_ , because it was just going to be her and Hella, so it wasn’t even a date, no matter what performative shit they said. It wasn’t even a performance.

Adaire let herself in with her key. Hella had given her the key long before they started “dating,” but the knowledge of it still burned hot in her hand, like a brand reminding her of what had gone wrong here.

Hella was on the couch, watching some show about house repairs that she liked because she liked home repair and Adaire liked because she liked being better at people at home repair.

“Hey.” Adaire sat down and Hella automatically draped her arm over Adaire’s shoulders, so comfortable and warm. Which was why Adaire made the deliberate choice to roll her shoulders and shrug Hella’s familiar arm off. Hella noticed. “Hadrian wanted us to come over for dinner on Friday.”

“Okay.” Hella said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “What’s up?”

Adaire didn’t know if Hella had always been able to read her this well, or if it was a side affect of the fake dating. She thought it was probably the former, which she hated. She definitely hated.

“Why did you do my hair like this?”

Hella’s brow furrowed. “Why did I - braid your hair?”

“Yes.”

Hella stared at Adaire like she waiting for her to become less ridiculous, but it wasn’t going to happen, and Hella probably knew Adaire was on of the most stubborn people in the world. That was the problem, wasn’t it, that Hella knew Adaire so well. “Because I wanted to?”

“Try again.”

“Because I thought it would look good?”

“One more time.” Adaire held up her finger like she was talking to a kindergartner. “Tell me why you put a courting braid in my hair.”

She could admit that sometimes, she got a little joy out of pulling the rug out from under someone’s feet. It was mean and nasty, but, sometimes, it felt really good. When Hella’s eyes went wide, clearly imbalanced, Adaire felt cruel like she never had before, guilty bordering on sick. She almost took it back. But that wasn’t her.

“Adaire-”

“Why did you do my hair like this?” Adaire snapped.

“Adaire, it’s just a _braid_!”

“No, it’s not,” Adaire said, pushing off the couch. “Hadrian told me! It’s a courtship braid, right? You put it in my hair and it’s a courtship braid!” She’d Googled it and everything, found far more out about Ordennan customs than she’d meant to, and it wasn’t just a courtship braid, it meant you were _serious_ about a girl. Most modern Ordennan’s hadn’t used it in ages, but Adaire knew Hella, and Hella was from a pretty rural area. And Hella had put that in Adaire’s hair.

“Well, we kind of _are_ -”

“No,” Adaire said, because she didn’t want to hear Hella say it. “We’re faking it, remember? We’re not dating. These aren’t dates. We’re just hanging out.”

“Adaire –”

“We shouldn’t do this anymore,” Adaire said, and she didn’t know she was going to say them, but the uncomfortable warmth in her chest disappeared, and she felt _lighter_ , really, she did, not empty, but _lighter_. Definitely wasn’t feeling any sort of loss. “Fake-dating, I mean. I don’t want to do it anymore. Tell Hadrian we broke up and we’re just friends and we can go back to normal.”

“Adaire, I don’t think –”

“It should be enough, right? You can get at least a few months of faking a broken heart.” Abruptly, she realized she didn’t want to see Hella with a broken heart, which only made her push more. “This is just fake.”

Hella’s cheeks were flush but her voice was steady. As well as steadily getting louder. “Adaire, I think we both _know_ it’s not just fake, not anymore-”

Adaire held up a hand. She knew. That was why she was doing this. “No.” She had to do this. “I knew it was a bad idea.”

“ _Why_ ,” Hella demanded, grabbing Adaire’s wrist, thumb against Adaire’s pulse point. She must have been able to feel it going so fast. “Because you’re letting someone in? The world isn’t going to end if you fall in love with someone, Adaire!”

Adaire’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t known Hella had known. About anything. About Adaire’s inability to date anyone and about the fact that Adaire had always known that she’d fall in love with Hella, if she let herself. That’s why this was risky. It had always been a risk and Adaire had done it and she’d ruined everything now. “Stop.”

“Wait-”

“I’m gonna go,” Adaire said softly. She tugged at her wrist until Hella released her, looking lost. Adaire stopped herself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to Hella’s forehead. “I’ll see you for drinks or something, okay?”

“Adaire-”

“Bye!” Adaire said loudly, because Hella wasn’t getting the point, which was that this had been a bad idea, and Adaire had known it and done it anyways. Adaire had always been like this and six months of fake dating and four years of friendship wasn’t going to change who she was. It wasn’t going to make her open up, not when she was untrusting down to her core.

\---------------

She spent the next morning in her apartment. She didn’t clean, even though she thought about it, because she thought it would be like erasing all traces of Hella from her life, and she didn’t want _that_. She just wanted – she just wanted to be friends again.

So she didn’t clear up the mug Hella liked to use, or move the DVDs back to their spot on the bookshelf, because they liked to watch movies together. She didn’t move the stool she’d sit on in the kitchen when Hella would come over, toting groceries, laughing and saying _well I have to impress my girlfriend, don’t I?_

But she did take the braids out. She didn’t want to look at them, she sat carefully undid every single one, hair curling around her face when she was done. Her head felt light.

She went to the store when it opened, and Fero took one look at her face and said, “Whoa, someone’s in a bad mood. Should I clear out?”

“I’m fine.”

“I think you’re not,” Fero countered, because he never did anything like he was supposed to. “What’s up?”

It was an accident that Adaire even told him. “Hella and I broke up.”

She wasn’t ready for the look of surprise and sadness that crossed his face. “Oh, man.” He slid off the dresser he was sitting on. She’d told him a hundred times he wasn’t supposed to be sitting on the furniture but he never listened. “Adaire, I’m really sorry.”

“Like I said, I’m fine.”

“If you want someone to listen, I’m here for you, okay?”

Adaire _hated_ that she knew that. “I said I’m fine!” The cash register slammed shut. Adaire had done that. She’d slammed it shut. She stared at it in surprise. She wasn’t prone to outbursts.

“Okay,” Fero said, giving her a little pat on the shoulder. “Offer stands, though.”

“Thank you,” Adaire made herself say, then she was rounding the counter and going to the backyard, wiping away a tear as she shoved open the door and stumbled out into the cold. God, this was stupid. They weren’t even really dating. This wasn’t a real break-up.

_Except it was_ , a traitorous little voice in her head whispered. _You both knew you weren’t just faking it_.

Adaire swallowed her goddamn tears. _So what_ , she thought viciously, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets to warm them up. Just a few days ago, Hella would have taken them to warm them up. _Even if we both knew we weren’t faking it anymore, so what? I can choose not to be involved with someone. I don’t_ want _to be involved with someone_.

The insidious little voice – and it did sound a bit like Hella – said _Isn’t it too late_?

_No_ , Adaire thought, but it was. She hadn’t even thought about it before coming to this diner, the same diner she’d been in when she and Hella had fooled Hadrian for the first time. It was their dinner. The waitresses knew them all. And she had a store, and she had friends. _If you truly wanted to be alone, you’d have left four years ago_ but she hadn’t wanted to and so she hadn’t and here she was. She’d been here for years and she had a membership to the museum and she pet-sat Kodiak and Fero had said _I’m here for you_ and she’d known he was going to say that and she’d known he was going to mean it.

Everyone was here for her. Including Hella. Especially Hella, who, who had patiently waited for her for years, who had coaxed Adaire into being her friend so carefully. Who clearly wanted her. They’d been doing this dance for four years, and Adaire thought she’d known the steps, but Hella had slowly been pulling her in another direction. She didn’t know what the steps were.

_I think we both know_ , Hella had said last night, and they both did. Adaire just hadn’t wanted to.

But she felt so empty right now. She’d wanted to avoid this feeling, but here it was anyways. What was the point, then, of pretending otherwise, of shoving all her feelings back down and wearing a mask? Of pretending like she hadn’t wanted it just as much as Hella did?

There wasn’t one. Adaire couldn’t think of a single damn reason. She just thought about how much she missed Hella already, like an ache.

She wouldn’t mind apologizing, if Hella would accept.

\---------------

Adaire gave Hella a little time to cool down, partially because Adaire was in the wrong and Hella knew it and it probably was a bad combination, and partly because Adaire didn’t trust Fero alone in her shop. But after closing, she made her way to the sports bar she thought Hella would be at.

And Hella was. She was sitting at the bar, eyes trained on the basketball game. Adaire had expected that, because she knew Hella. There was a seat open. Maybe it was for Adaire, who came to this bar to watch sports with Hella at least once a month, even though she didn’t like, understand, or care about sports.

Adaire slid onto the empty seat. “Hi.”

Hella looked at her. “Hi.”

“I have something to tell you,” Adaire said, then she dove right in. “I’ve figured it out. And I want to apologize.”

Hella looked up and pushed her beer a little farther away. “I was waiting for you.”

Adaire gave her arm two quick pats. She hadn’t thought Hella would think she was coming, or she wouldn’t have been late. “Sorry, I know the game already started, but this is important. You were right, okay? About me. And – about what we were doing, it wasn’t fake, I knew that. I was just scared.”

Hella shook her head. “I was _waiting_ for you,” she repeated, giving Adaire a soft smile.

Adaire blinked. “You were - waiting for me - to figure it out?” Hella nodded. “So you know what I’m going to say?”

“I think so.”

“And you feel the same?”

Hella’s smile was thin and a little anxious. Adaire reached out and pressed her fingers to it, hoping to smooth it out. “Presumably.”

“So you know I want to date the fuck outta you?”

Hella smiled under Adaire’s fingers; a real smile, like a flower blooming. A matching one bloomed around Adaire’s heart. “I’d hoped,” Hella confessed, revealing all her cards. She put her hand on Adaire’s jaw, her thumb brushing Adaire’s list. When she leaned in for a kiss, sticky with the taste of beer, Adaire rose to meet her, breathless now for a different reason.

She wouldn’t pretended she’d spent a long time imagining it. She’d actually spent a very long time pointedly not imagining it. But she wouldn’t have imagined it to be so sweet or so triumphant.

Hella took a long, measured breath when they parted, close enough that Adaire could feel her breath.

“Well?” Adaire demanded. Her fingers were trembling, a little bit, as she smoothed down the collar of Hella’s button-down.

“Well what?”

“Where’s my love confession?”

Hella laughed, delighted. “I’ve really liked you,” she said, pressing a kiss to Adaire’s knuckles like a knight would to a princess. “For a long time. I always thought you just were never interested. But - I think I know better now. You just didn’t want to let yourself be interested.” Hella pressed a kiss to the inside of Adaire’s wrist. “Am I right?”

Adaire swallowed. The bartender gave them a glance and let them be. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Hella said smugly. “Good thing I’m such a good fake girlfriend or you’d never have given in.”

“Wait, was this your plan?” Adaire took back the wrist Hella was holding and used it to smack her on the shoulder. Hella probably didn’t even feel it, because she was laughing. “Hella!”

Hella waved it off. “No, it was just good timing,” she promised. “Hadrian really was being a nuisance. It just – it let me see that you really were interested, alright? You’re usually so guarded, Adaire. This was the only time you really let me in.”

Adaire crossed her arms. “Don’t get used to it.”

Hella grinned at her. “I plan to get very used to it,” and then she leaned in for another kiss.

Adaire laughed against her lips. “Of course you are.” That was just like Hella. She just knew Adaire so well. 

**Author's Note:**

> they live happily ever after as home depot lesbians . hmu on twitter @ surrealisttrees !!!!!!!


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